


Prisoner of Time

by eksley05



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eksley05/pseuds/eksley05
Summary: Clyde had never liked the rain. Craig, though, he loved it. It was appropriate, then, that it had started to rain just as the funeral began.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan/Craig Tucker, Kyle Broflovski/Christophe "The Mole", Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Prisoner of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first new thing I've written in years. I've had this idea sitting in a document for literally 9 years or something and finally getting it written makes me so happy.
> 
> The inspiration for this hit when I was listening to the song "Kissing Rain" by Roch Voisine, and I highly recommend listening to it while you read if you can. I hope you like it, let me know either way. <3

It's funny, the things you remember.

Clyde had never liked the rain. Actually, he'd never been too keen on precipitation of any kind, to be perfectly honest. One too many chunks of hail hitting his head, snowflakes assaulting the back of his neck, and raindrops in his eye had soured him on the whole natural occurrence. Not to mention that uncomfortable, inescapable damp cold feeling that came along with it, the kind of cold that goes straight through you, all the way to your bones. Not _even_ to mention what your clothes felt like after a sufficient amount of precipitation - soaking wet, freezing, and stuck to your skin. Clyde couldn't stand that feeling.

Craig, though, he loved it. Rain, snow, sleet, hail - he couldn't get enough of it. Ever since Clyde can remember, whenever anything fell from the sky Craig was the first one outside to revel in it. While Tweek stayed inside, freaking out about bronchitis and pneumonia, Craig was out there splashing in puddles, or making an army of snowballs to fling around, or catching all the hail he could manage in his yellow-puffballed blue hat. Precipitation was one of the few things Clyde had ever seen actually make him smile.

It was appropriate, then, Clyde thinks as he tightens the hood of his red jacket and shoves his hands in his pockets, that it had started to rain just as the funeral began.

It isn't much, just sprinkling really; it's just enough that the few people in attendance who'd thought to bring them pop open umbrellas, the familiar rustling and clicking sounds echoing across the quiet cemetery. Clyde's head is down, so he doesn't see it happen, but he hears the, "Ngh!" from beside him, and he stumbles a bit as Tweek bumps into him. He lets out an involuntary hiss as a sharp pain shoots down his left side at the sudden movement.

Tweek's umbrella that he'd been in the process of trying to open falls to the ground. Clyde just stares at it, lying there on the grass, and it's Token - he can tell by the shoes - who takes the two steps forward to pick it up and return it to Tweek.

"Jesus!" Tweek's exclamation bursts out of him in a shaky whisper. "S - sorry!"

It takes Clyde longer than it should to realize that he's the one Tweek is apologizing to. Slowly, he raises his head and turns to his friend, the sight of Tweek's messy hair, pale face and red-rimmed green eyes making him feel sick to his stomach. Without thinking, Clyde looks down, at the red umbrella Tweek is clutching with his left hand; his right arm is in a cast, held against his body by the sling attached to his shoulder.

Fighting back every urge he has to throw up, cry, and scream, Clyde manages a small shrug. "S'fine," he mumbles, his voice raspy, and it's the first thing he's said in days.

Token, on the other side of Tweek, clears his throat, and Clyde has just met his best friend's gaze when Father Maxi speaks from directly in front of them. Token nods, and Clyde knows that means that he wants to talk later. The thought of talking about what he knows Token will want to talk about makes his heart race and he risks opening his mouth to take a deep breath.

"Welcome, everyone," Father Maxi addresses the attendees. He is standing at one of those portable podiums, in front of a closed mahogany-colored casket that is lying on the grass next to an open grave. Clyde's eyes are glued to the casket and he shudders, wishing he was anywhere else but here. He listens, numb, as the priest continues, pushing his glasses further up his nose as he speaks. "We are here today to honor the life of eighteen-year-old Craig Tucker, taken from us much too soon on the morning of April eleventh."

A wave of dizziness washes over Clyde and he fights to keep his balance. He hears some shuffling behind him, some murmurs of annoyance, and then Kenny's low voice in his ear. "How's he doing?"

Clyde shakes his head, keeping his eyes trained on the casket. If he opens his mouth again, he knows it won't end well. Kenny sighs softly, and Clyde hears him say, to Tweek, "Hey."

"Hghn!" is the response. More shuffling and clicking, and Clyde knows Kenny has taken Tweek's umbrella to open it for him.

He's aware Kenny is talking to Tweek now, and Father Maxi is saying something else, but Clyde isn't listening anymore, to anyone. He can't focus on anything except the casket, and the rain - which has picked up a little bit, light raindrops falling steadily now. He watches as the water hits the top of the casket and trickles down the sides, leaving little trails all along the wood in overlapping haphazard patterns; something about it triggers a part of his brain and Clyde's breath hitches as he gets hit hard with a memory.

* * *

_Thunder rumbles outside, long and low, and Clyde sighs at the sound. He turns in his chair, away from his computer screen, to look out his bedroom window. He pulls his right leg up so his foot is resting on the chair, and leans his chin on his knee. Outside, the beginnings of a storm are brewing; Clyde watches as his vision of the sky, lit in the reds and oranges of sunset, blurs, courtesy of the raindrops gathering on the glass of his window. The resulting effect sort of looks like a watercolor painting, and it would be pretty, if it didn't make Clyde so grumpy._

_He makes a noise of disgust in his throat, a 'tchh' sound, and gets up from his chair, crossing the room and crawling onto his bed to peer out at the falling rain. He makes a face at it, like that's going to make it stop, and grumbles, "Goddammit." He'd been thinking about going out for a walk after dinner, down to the mall to see if there were any good video games on sale, but now that idea is out. There is no way he is going to willingly go out in the rain, absolutely no way. He glares at the water trails on his window, completely offended at their audacity to ruin his evening plans._

_"Clyde?" his mom calls up the stairs, her voice drifting through his door he had left slightly ajar. "Clyde, your friend is here!"_

_Clyde doesn't even turn around; he knows that his mom will just send whoever it is right up to his room, and the call had been more of a warning than anything else. Sure enough, he hears the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, and a second later the reflection of one of his best friends on his window blocks the view of the street outside._

_"Hey," Clyde says. He glances over his shoulder when no response is forthcoming, then furrows his brow and turns all the way. Craig is leaning back in Clyde's computer chair, which he's turned to face the wall next to Clyde's bedroom door. His arms are hanging loosely at his sides, and even though Clyde can only see the back of his head, he looks different, off somehow. Part of it is the absence of his hat, but there's something else too. The air of confidence he's had the whole nearly eighteen years that Clyde has known him seems to have just disappeared._

_Concerned now, Clyde slides off his bed. "Dude," he says, moving closer. "You okay?"_

_Craig lets out a snort of sarcastic laughter, which Clyde takes to mean no, he is not okay. When his friend spins the computer chair around, and Clyde sees that his assumption is indeed correct, he gasps a little bit, involuntarily. Craig's left eye is swollen, covered in a huge black and purple bruise._

_"What the hell happened?" Without meaning to, Clyde leans forward a bit, trying to get a closer look._

_Craig scowls and reaches up to swipe some of his black hair over his black eye. His hair, while longer than most, isn't long enough to fully conceal the damage. "Just some bullshit," he says, his voice rough, crossing his arms. When Clyde just stares expectantly, his expression making it clear that that was not a good enough answer, Craig sighs, adding, "My dad's a dick."_

_"Dude, what the fuck? Your dad did that?" Clyde recoils in both shock and horror. It's never been a secret that Craig's entire family isn't exactly the Brady Bunch, but still, this is completely unprecedented. He's been at Craig's house before to witness the yelling, the screaming, the barrage of middle fingers directed every which way, but as far as he's known none of the Tuckers have ever resorted to physical violence with each other before. "Why?" He asks the question without thinking, and when his brain catches up with his mouth, he winces, but the reaction he is expecting never happens._

_Normally, when asked a question about any aspect of his personal life, Craig would harshly tell whoever was asking to mind his own fucking business, or something similar, punctuating the statement with a middle finger. Now, though, Craig just lifts one shoulder in a lopsided shrug and runs a hand through his hair. "We had a talk," he says flatly. "Didn't go well."_

_"Oh," Clyde says, a bit awkwardly, unsure what else to say._

_"So you think I could stay here tonight?" There is a bit of a shake to Craig's attempt at a casual tone. He clears his throat, like he is about to say something else, but doesn't._

_"Yeah, of course. Tweek busy or something?" It's a completely innocuous question, Clyde thinks, based only on the fact he knows that Craig and Tweek are the alpha best friends out of his gang of guys; but he backs up, startled, when Craig stands abruptly, the force of which sends the computer chair rolling back a few feet. He doesn't answer the question, just crosses the room to kneel on Clyde's bed and stare out the window, in much the same position Clyde himself had been in just a few minutes earlier._

_Once again faced with the back of Craig's head, Clyde frowns. "Dude," he says, for the third time in five minutes, climbing up on his bed so he can kneel beside his friend. Craig's expression as he stares out at the rain is completely unreadable. "What's going on?"_

_Almost imperceptibly, Craig's jaw clenches and Clyde can just catch a glimpse of the sunset reflected in his good eye, suddenly shiny with tears. He blinks them away before they can fall, and his right hand comes up to flip Clyde off, presumably just for being there to see that the tears had existed in the first place._

_Clyde is shaken, having not seen his friend cry in, basically, forever. He reaches out, intending to just touch Craig's shoulder or something as a sign of support. He isn't expecting Craig to catch his arm by the wrist and turn to face him, meeting his gaze, a spark of something Clyde can't decipher in his gray eyes. His throat suddenly dry, Clyde swallows hard, and he can feel his heart start to beat just a little bit faster._

_"Craig," he goes to say, but before he can get the word out, Craig leans forward. Clyde instinctively squeezes his eyes shut, unable to believe what's happening even as he feels his friend's breath, hot on his cheek. Time stands still for a few seconds as he feels Craig's lips gently make contact with his own, his head spinning with questions. As soon as the kiss ends, Clyde's eyes fly open and he mumbles the first question to make it from his brain to his vocal cords: "What?"_

_"That," Craig says, almost defiantly, as he straightens up, still holding onto Clyde's wrist. "is what's fucking going on."_

_"Um." Clyde blinks stupidly, his mouth hanging slightly open. He glances from side to side, trying to make sense of what just happened, and failing miserably; his mind is racing, but his brain just can't seem to process anything beyond, 'Holy shit.' Another question pushes its way to the forefront and he blurts it out. "What about Tweek?" Because now Clyde is thinking that if Craig all of a sudden wants to go around kissing guys, wouldn't it be a million times more likely for him to want that from the person he spends ninety percent of his time with?_

_Craig lets out an exasperated sigh and ignores the question, instead choosing to scoot forward so his knees are touching Clyde's. One of his hands, the one not currently grasping Clyde's wrist, reaches up to tangle itself in Clyde's thick brown hair, cradling the back of Clyde's head. The second kiss is different; it's a little rougher, more like Clyde has always thought it would be; and, as he gives in, parting his lips slightly, he can taste just a hint of tobacco._

_When Craig finally pulls away, and slides his hand up to lace their fingers together, Clyde tries to act normal despite the abnormality of the situation. "Okay," he says, hearing the breathlessness in his tone and blushing because of it. So not Tweek, then. "So like. I have zombies." He nods vaguely in the direction of his video game shelf._

_Craig shakes his head, doing a much better job of behaving normally, with the exception of the fact that he is holding Clyde's hand. "Nah. I feel like going for a walk."_

_Clyde wrinkles his nose, both in disgust at the idea of going outside and in a fruitless attempt to hide his red face. "It's raining," he protests._

_"Oh, come on." Craig raises an eyebrow and gives Clyde one of his trademark douchebag smirks. "You afraid of a little rain?"_

_"S'more than a little," Clyde grumbles, but follows it up with a resigned sigh and a, "Fine." He moves to get off the bed, but Craig puts an arm out to stop him._

_"Just don't." He pauses, and his cocky asshole facade cracks again, just a tiny bit. "Don't tell anyone. This'll just be our thing, yeah?" He squeezes Clyde's hand gently, affectionately, a silent promise._

_"Yeah, of course," Clyde agrees immediately, inwardly wondering who in their right mind would say no to being with Craig in any capacity, at all. He looks up, out at the rain again, as a crack of thunder rattles the windowpane, and wonders how in the absolute hell he got so lucky._

* * *

A gust of wind blows the hood of Clyde's jacket up over his eyes, blocking his view of the casket and bringing him back to reality. He shifts in place a little and reaches up to reposition the hood, keeping it on but allowing himself the ability to see. Kenny is still beside him, and Clyde finds himself wondering if the reason Kenny used to keep the hood of his parka up so often when they were kids had something to do with wanting to hide. Clyde would give anything to be able to hide right now.

"At this time," Father Maxi is saying. "I would like to invite anybody who would like to speak about Craig to come forward and share."

"Oh, Christ!" Clyde hears Tweek whisper, and his heart stops.

He watches from under his hood as Tweek lurches forward unsteadily, Kenny on his heels, helping to keep Tweek's umbrella from hitting anyone on his way past. There are other people moving to line up at the podium - including Craig's parents, of course, Jimmy, Butters, and Stan - but it's the thought of hearing Tweek talk about Craig that sends a chill throughout Clyde's entire body. He doesn't see that Token has moved closer until he feels a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey." Token gestures after Tweek and Kenny with one hand, holding his umbrella over himself and Clyde with the other. "You wanna go with them?"

Clyde shakes his head. The last thing he wants to do is stand up in front of everyone and lie. What he wants to do, what he's planning to do as soon as he can, is go home and lock himself in his bedroom, away from everyone and everything.

Token sighs, but doesn't push. Clyde can't help but wonder why he isn't going up to get in line, but then, as if he's read Clyde's mind, Token speaks again. "Jimmy and I co-wrote a speech." Clyde looks over to see his friend looking straight ahead. "I really didn't feel like talking, today," he adds quietly. "Did you know Tweek was going to say something?"

Clyde swallows, his throat dry. "Uh-uh," he says. Of course he hadn't known; he hasn't seen anyone except his parents in over a week.

"I feel so fucking bad for him," Token whispers. Clyde follows his gaze to where Tweek is standing beside Kenny, in the third place in line. Even from here Clyde can see that he is basically vibrating. "Kenny and I were talking, and we're all going to my house after, to like…" Token trails off, and Clyde looks back at him. "Deal with our shit," he finishes finally. "You're coming, right?"

Clyde shrugs, wincing as the motion sends another shock of pain down his side. "Sure," he mumbles, not wanting to at all but knowing he has to if he's going to keep his secret. He doesn't have to stay long, just make an appearance, get through maybe a half hour, and then he can go home. He can manage a half hour.

"Good." Token sighs again. "Tweek's going to need us all there. I'll go let Kyle know." And with that, he and his umbrella are gone.

Craig's parents are the first to the podium, and, unable to look at them, Clyde tilts his head up to stare at the sky instead, squinting so the rain doesn't fall right into his eyes. The clouds are darker and lower than they had been when he'd left his house earlier, and there's a faint coppery electric scent in the air. A storm is coming.

When Craig's mom starts to speak, Clyde shuts his eyes and inhales as deeply as he can in an attempt to keep himself as calm as possible. Mrs. Tucker's voice breaks halfway through her speech and Craig's dad takes over, talking about what a great person his son was. Hearing Craig spoken about in the past tense makes Clyde feel nauseous again. His legs start to shake and he lowers himself slowly until he is kneeling on the grass, leaning forward and putting his hands flat to prop himself up. Water from the wet ground seeps into his jeans, but he barely even feels it. He sniffles, but it isn't until he tastes a bit of salt that he realizes he's crying, and that the water dripping down his face is a mixture of the rain and his own tears.

After Craig's parents, it's Stan's turn at the podium. Clyde listens as he tells the story of the time he, his friends, and Craig had gone to Peru and how Craig had saved the world. He's going for comedy, to try to make a sad situation a little less sad, which Clyde knows is a very Stan thing to do. They've never really been close friends, but everyone knows that's how Stan processes grief.

Still, he can't help but hate Stan a little bit in this moment for trying to make people smile. Clyde doesn't want to smile. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to smile again. Stan just doesn't get it. One of Clyde's best friends, someone that meant more to Clyde than he could ever explain, is dead now, and it's killing him.

And he can't ever tell anybody why.

"Ngh!"

The familiar exclamation makes every muscle in Clyde's body immediately tense, and he unconsciously clenches his fists to grab handfuls of grass. He lifts his head to see Tweek clutching the edge of the podium with his uninjured arm. Kenny stands beside him, holding the red umbrella over Tweek's head, his hand on Tweek's shoulder, a sign of encouragement or support, Clyde isn't sure. For just a second, he feels a sudden rush of hatred for Kenny too, but then Tweek starts speaking.

"Craig w- was - oh, Jesus!" Tweek stutters, taking an audibly shaky breath before trying again. "Craig was my - ghh! - my best f- friend," he says, hiccuping in the middle of the sentence. "For a long time he was my only friend. He al- ghh! - always made me feel like - like it was okay to be m- me." A particularly violent twitch nearly makes him lose his balance, but Kenny catches him just in time. "He was al- ngh! - always there for me if I needed anything and I really - he was the most important person in my - ghh! - my life. I'm g- going to miss him." He sniffles, twitching again, and turns to Kenny, who nods. He and Tweek switch places.

Kenny starts to talk, but a loud boom of thunder interrupts him, and then the sky explodes. All of a sudden the rain is coming down in sheets, huge raindrops splashing off the podium, the casket, Clyde's hood, everywhere. The twenty-something people in attendance who hadn't brought umbrellas scramble to find some kind of cover - except for Clyde, who remains in the same position. His eyes had drifted downwards during Tweek's little speech, and now he just watches as puddles form rapidly in the grass surrounding him. His clothes are getting soaking wet and not even his hood has been able to keep his hair dry, but he can't get up the energy or motivation to stand.

"In light of this sudden weather," he hears Father Maxi say, nearly shouting to be heard over the sound of the falling rain. "I would like to direct you all to the Park Memorial website where you can share your thoughts and stories if you did not get a chance to today. In closing, let us all remember: this is not goodbye. Craig Tucker will live on, forever, in our hearts, our minds, and our souls, as long as we hold on to our memories. Thank you."

Clyde looks up as a hand waves in front of his face. Token is looking down at him; past his friend, Clyde sees Father Maxi talking to a couple of cemetery workers, gesturing to the casket. Clyde's stomach clenches and he looks off to the side, where everyone who had been attending the funeral is walking quickly across the grass in the direction of the parking lot.

"Come on," Token says, holding out his arm to help Clyde up. "I can drive us back."

Wordlessly, Clyde lets Token help pull him to his feet, and the two of them follow the others to the parking lot. Token's Honda is right next to the cemetery entrance, and as he and Clyde slide inside, he tosses his folded umbrella into the backseat. "Jesus," he says, peering out the windshield and shaking his head. "That came out of nowhere."

Clyde nods, though he isn't even sure Token is looking at him. He lowers the hood of his jacket and reaches behind him for his seat belt, wincing a bit as his side aches again. Gingerly he pulls the strap across his chest and clicks the restraint into place.

"Kenny said Tweek wanted to go home and change." Token fishes his keys out of his pocket and proceeds to start the car, flipping the heat on as soon as the engine rumbles to life. "So they'll probably be a little later. I think everyone else was heading over now." He reaches up to adjust the rearview mirror before carefully backing out of the parking space. "Did you need to stop at your place?"

Clyde looks down, at his dripping clothes, as if seeing them for the first time. He shifts in his seat a little, finally registering the uncomfortable feeling of wet fabric sticking to his skin. Still, as much as he dislikes the feeling, it reminds him of being out in the rain with Craig and right now, he'll cling to any good memory of him. "No," he says with a slight shake of his head.

"Cool. I think you might've left some stuff at my place anyway." Token stops just at the edge of the parking lot, frowning at the dashboard controls until he locates the button for the windshield wipers. Clyde watches as the wipers spring to life, swishing back and forth against the glass; a chill creeps up his spine and he unconsciously grips the door handle tightly, fighting the sudden panic attack that is threatening to erupt. When the Honda lurches forward, Clyde's stomach lurches with it.

The ride to Token's from the cemetery is less than ten minutes, but to Clyde it feels like infinitely longer. Token, thankfully, had been more focused on navigating the road through the rain than making conversation, so he hadn't had to worry about trying to talk at all. When they finally make it all the way up Token's driveway, and his friend shuts off the car and turns to him, however, Clyde knows his luck has run out.

"Looks like we beat everyone else," Token says offhandedly, reaching into the back for his umbrella. "So, Tweek's speech."

"Uh-huh." Clyde gulps, unfastening his seat belt and covering his mouth with his jacket sleeve as inconspicuously as he can.

"I just can't believe it." Token sighs, a deep, sympathetic sigh. "Like I mean, I always knew he had a thing for Craig, but like, it must have been way more serious than any of us could have thought."

"Mm." Noncommittal noises seem to be the only thing Clyde can manage at the moment. The same momentary hatred he felt earlier for Stan and Kenny reappears, directed at Token now. The fact that the person who's supposed to be his best friend hasn't even seemed to notice, the fact that the only times Token has talked to him today have been about Tweek, and how bad he feels for Tweek, and how much Tweek must be hurting right now, makes Clyde want to scream. Somewhere, buried underneath all his miserable grief and anger, the little sliver of logic still present in his brain knows that it's unfair to expect Token to know something he's never been told; the tragic thing about logic is that in a fight against emotion, it never has a hope of emerging victorious.

"Like what if it wasn't just one-sided?" Token is talking again. "What if Tweek and Craig were _actually_ , like, you know? Tweek can't hide anything obviously but Craig had lying down to an art." There's that past tense again. Every time Token says Craig's name it's like a shot to Clyde's heart. A mix of anger, frustration, and desperation rises up inside him until, "Token," he blurts out, accidentally, his voice louder and harsher than he'd intended.

Token stops talking and his eyebrows come together in surprise at Clyde's strangely hostile tone. "What?" he asks.

Clyde opens his mouth, wanting so badly to tell Token everything. About that night eight months ago that Craig had come over, his eye blackened and bruised; about the kiss - the first one, anyway; about all the times that Craig had snuck into Clyde's house after all the rest of the Donovans were asleep; about the night when Clyde had woken up in the middle of the night after accidentally falling asleep before nine o'clock to find his window open and Craig sprawled out beside him on his bed, snoring like a lawnmower. He wants so much to tell Token all about the time that Craig had dragged him outside in the snowstorm last Christmas Eve and made him run all around the neighborhood doing a scavenger hunt for his Christmas present - that ended up right back inside Clyde's house because Craig thought he was absolutely hilarious. He wants more than anything to let Token in on the secret of why exactly he is so, so mentally and emotionally fucked up right now, why he knows for a fact that there hadn't been anything between Craig and Tweek - aside from the increasingly glaringly obvious matter of Tweek's feelings; but he's frozen by the memory of Craig that first night, sitting on Clyde's bed, looking more vulnerable than he had ever seen him.

_"Don't tell anyone. This'll just be our thing, yeah?"_

"Clyde?" Token sounds both confused and concerned now. "You okay?"

Clyde searches his brain frantically for something to say. As much as he wants to share everything with his best friend, he made a promise, and he can't break it. He shifts again and mutters, "Ow."

"Oh, Goddammit," Token says, his eyes widening. "Dude, I'm so sorry, I totally...fuck. Come on." He undoes his own seat belt and opens his door. "I have painkillers in the house."

Clyde sits perfectly still for just a second, his heart pounding, before following after Token, who holds the front door of the Black's house open for him.

"Wait here a sec," Token says, disappearing down a hallway to the left as Clyde stands there in the entryway, dripping all over the welcome mat. When he returns he's carrying an armful of clothing with a small bottle sitting on top. "Here," he says, holding them out and nodding to the stairs to the basement, on Clyde's right. "These are yours, you can go throw your shit in the dryer and the downstairs bathroom's full of towels. And that's the best painkiller ever, my dad uses it for migraines, it should help." He sighs again and offers Clyde an apologetic shrug. "Sorry I forgot, it's just, you look fine so, like, I wasn't even thinking."

"Thanks," Clyde says, taking the things from Token, and it takes all of the energy he can currently muster to say the longest sentence he's said all day: "Sorry for getting everything all wet."

"Oh, please." Token rolls his eyes. "It's water, it's fine." He turns to go back down the hallway. "I'll meet you down there, I'm gonna go get drinks and whatever."

Clyde slips off his soaking wet sneakers and descends the carpeted stairs slowly, wet imprints of his feet trailing after him.

The basement of Token's house has always been their place, the home of Saturday night movie nights, parties, and video game marathons. It's the biggest basement Clyde has ever seen, and it has everything - bathroom, pantry, laundry room, an air hockey table, a foosball table, a TV area with three giant couches and basically every console ever made, and shelves full of both video and board games. Clyde has spent so much of his life here every time he comes down these stairs it feels like coming home. He's made so many great memories here, hanging out with Token and - everyone. He shakes his head, pushing away a memory he isn't ready to relive, and crosses from the stairs to the bathroom. Inside, he sets the bottle and dry clothes on the side of the sink and unzips his jacket, throwing it in a heap on the floor. Carefully, he peels off his wet T-shirt and adds that to the pile, and then looks in the mirror, picking up the bottle of painkillers.

Several patches of angry-looking bruises cover the left side of his ribcage. Clyde runs one of his hands over a particularly nasty looking area and winces. In the grand scheme of things, he had been extremely lucky, he knows, but that thought offers very little comfort. He squints at the bottle, finding the dosage instructions, and then shakes two pills into his hand, popping them into his mouth and swallowing them. If Token's dad uses them, Clyde knows they really are probably the best painkillers in existence. He shivers, and eyes the shower as he replaces the cap on the bottle. Figuring Token won't care if he takes an extra ten minutes - and honestly, wanting to stall as long as he can - Clyde throws the rest of his wet clothes on the floor and steps into the tub.

He isn't sure if it's the hot water or the painkillers, but when he turns off the shower, Clyde feels a little bit better - physically, anyway. His side doesn't hurt quite so much and he can actually move around and get dressed without flinching, which he supposes is progress. He gathers up his old clothes and opens the bathroom door. As soon as he does, he immediately wants to slam it shut again. Across the basement, the couches - and surrounding floor - are filled with his friends. Nobody notices him, at least not yet; he takes a quick scan and relaxes about two percent when he sees that Tweek isn't there yet.

As quickly as he can manage, Clyde goes to the laundry room, next to the bathroom, and deposits his clothes into the dryer, setting it for a half hour dry cycle. He takes a deep breath, and, though his heart feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest and through the wall, turns and makes his way over to where everyone else is. He stands awkwardly behind the couch nearest the stairs, feeling uncomfortably out of place among the same people he's known his whole life.

"Hey, there, Clyde." Butters sees him first. He's sitting on the couch opposite the one Clyde is behind, with Jason and Kevin; Bebe and Red are sitting together on the floor in front of them. Wendy, Stan, Cartman, and Heidi are on the couch right in front of Clyde. Token is on the third couch, beside Jimmy, who is beside Scott Malkinson. A couple of the Goth kids are sitting against the far wall, and Christophe is seated on the coffee table in the middle of the couches, Kyle cross-legged on the floor leaning against his legs. When Butters speaks, everyone else looks up and offers various silent forms of greeting - waves, nods, and in Cartman's case, an eye roll.

Clyde nods back, his throat suddenly dry. Token scoots over on the couch to make room and Clyde sinks into the soft fabric, wishing he could sink enough to disappear.

"Okay," Token says, addressing everyone in the room. "Kenny and Tweek should be here soon." He looks from person to person. "How...should we do this?"

Nobody answers him for a minute; the only sound is the rumbling of Token's dryer. Clyde closes his eyes for a second, desperately fighting off the feeling of deja vu that hits at Token's question. Half an hour, he tells himself again.

Christophe is the first one to speak, which is clearly unexpected given that everyone Clyde can see looks up at the French teen with surprise. "I zink," he says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "it would be wise to avoid mentioning Tucker's name, _oui_?"

Cartman lets out a snort. Kyle, who had been reaching up behind him to touch Christophe's hand, glares at him, but Christophe just arches an eyebrow.

"You disagree?" Christophe's tone is calm and even, but Clyde knows with him that never guarantees anything. "You, per'aps, 'ave a different idea?"

"I just don't see why we have to walk on fucking eggshells," Cartman complains. "Why are we even here?"

"What is your problem?" Wendy angrily leans forward so she can see past Stan, who rests his head on his hand with a sigh. "Someone we know _died_ , Cartman!"

"Yeah, three weeks ago. And now we're all supposed to what, come here and talk about our feelings just because today's the day Craig ended up underground?"

Clyde's heart stops when he hears that, and the image of the casket at the cemetery flashes in his mind. Heidi's eyes widen at Cartman's words and she reaches out to put her hand on his arm. Kyle has already jumped up and gotten in his face, eyes blazing with fury.

"You're such a disrespectful asshole, Cartman!" he nearly yells. "Why don't you just go the fuck home if you don't care?"

Cartman rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch, completely unfazed by Kyle's rage. "I didn't say I didn't care," he mutters. "I just don't understand why we have to talk about it."

"We're here for Tweek, you idiot." Stan raises his head and looks wearily at the both of them.

"It's not like they were dating," Cartman says, still in a petulant tone.

"I don't know," Token says. He sits forward, on the edge of the couch now, and continues, "You remember the game that night, don't you? Don't you think it's possible they might have been and we just didn't know?"

No, Clyde wants to shout, but he just stares down at the carpet, silently, trying his hardest to ignore his best friend's voice as he speaks. He feels like he is going to throw up again, and when Token's doorbell rings, he's grateful for the interruption - until he remembers who it is who's just arrived.

"It's open!" Token hollers in the direction of the stairs. Clyde hears the creak of the front door opening and closing, footsteps, and then Kenny and Tweek appear in the basement.

"Hey," Kenny says, using both hands to push wet blond hair out of his face. Tweek just twitches, holding his cast-covered arm with the other, looking somehow at everyone and nobody all at once. Token immediately jumps up from the couch.

"Here, Tweek, you can sit here," he says, gesturing to the now-empty space beside Clyde, who tenses. "I'll be right back." He nods at Kenny as he passes, disappearing up the stairs.

Tweek stumbles his way over to the couch and lowers himself carefully into the spot on Clyde's left. Kenny looks around, shrugs when he sees the couches all full, and hops onto the coffee table beside Christophe.

It's that, that one simple action of Kenny sitting down, that is the final trigger. Clyde clamps his mouth shut against a surge of nausea, and the memory he has been trying to forget since he stepped foot in Token's house bursts through into his mind. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to fight anymore as his brain takes him back three weeks earlier, to the last time he'd been in this room, with these people. The night of April 10th, his eighteenth birthday.

* * *

_The party had been Token's idea, not Clyde's. Clyde would have been content with just a few of the guys, some pizza, and video games, but Token was adamant that an eighteenth birthday deserved more celebration than that._

_"Come on," he'd said, putting his Xbox controller on the coffee table. Clyde made a noise of protest and pointed at the screen, where Token's character was getting swarmed by zombies, but his friend wasn't paying attention. "You never do anything for your birthdays and this is one of the ones that actually matters!"_

_Clyde was too focused on trying not to die now that he had to, apparently, navigate the game solo, so Token continued speaking._

_"We can have it here, and Christophe can totally get alcohol, he never gets carded anywhere." Clyde wrinkled his nose at the mention of alcohol, which had never interested him. Token grinned and nudged him with his elbow. "And we can invite that girl from Raisins last weekend, what was her name… Genesis?"_

_Clyde bit his tongue to keep from groaning. The last person he wanted to hang out with was that waitress. She'd been hanging all over him the whole time they were there and he'd had to pretend to be into it, to not blow the cover of his secret relationship; meanwhile, Craig, across the table, had been laughing at him the whole time. "I don't remember." That was a lie, he did remember, he just didn't care. "If I say yes will you forget the waitress?"_

_Token rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "She's forgotten. I'll call everyone. And don't worry so much, it's going to be fucking epic!" He leaned back on the couch and pulled his phone out of his pocket, oblivious to Clyde's tragic death at the hands of Generic Zombie #12._

_And Clyde has to admit, honestly, as he looks around the Black's basement, it's been a hell of a party. Christophe, as promised, had arrived with a shopping cart full of alcohol and Kyle - literally, he was sitting in the front of the cart surrounded by booze. Token had set out snacks and pizza all throughout the basement, as well as a self-serve bar area. All of the guys from school had come, and at least half the girls. Even the Goth and Vampire kids had shown up, though of course they stayed on opposite sides of the house the entire time. Even now, at - Clyde squints down at the screen of his phone - just about three in the morning, sleeping Goth kids are slumped against the wall on the left, and there's a pile of dead-to-the-world Vamp Kids on the right._

_Clyde lifts his legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch, brings his can of Coke to his lips and surveys the rest of the room. Pretty much everyone is either gone or passed out at this point, except for the small group of people gathered around him. Token is sprawled out on Clyde's left, fighting to stay awake but clearly half asleep. Craig and Tweek are sitting on opposite ends of another couch; Craig is watching something - probably an old episode of Red Racer - on his phone, and Tweek, hands clasping a huge mug full of coffee, is watching Kenny, who is currently arm-wrestling Christophe across the coffee table. Kyle is sitting between them, acting as referee. He loses every time but, Kenny being Kenny, refuses to quit. Stan and Wendy are totally making out on the third couch. Cartman is sitting on the other side of the same piece of furniture, and he keeps shooting them annoyed glares until finally, he just can't take it anymore._

_"God, you guys, get a fucking room," he says, rolling his eyes._

_Stan and Wendy break apart, completely unashamed. Wendy giggles and tips over sideways. Wendy is very, very drunk. Stan grabs her arm and pulls her up, leaning her carefully against him, and says, "Shut up," mildly in Cartman's direction._

_Kenny's hand hits the coffee table for the millionth time, and he jumps up. "I have an idea!" he exclaims, drunkenly tripping over his own feet as he bounds across the basement to where his backpack is located. He pulls a notebook and a pen out and returns to the group, hopping up onto the coffee table and sitting cross-legged in the middle of it. "Let's play Questions!"_

_"The fuck is that?" Cartman demands._

_"We've played it before, Fatass." Kyle rolls his eyes. "It's that thing where you have to write down a question and mix them up, then everyone takes turns picking one and reading it out loud."_

_"And everyone has to answer!" Kenny is already scribbling something in the notebook. He tears off a strip of paper and folds it in half. He looks around for a second before leaning over, stretching his arm out to pluck Craig's hat off of his head, dropping the paper inside._

_Craig flips him off, but doesn't fight him. He puts his phone down beside him on the couch instead, and holds out his hand. Kenny grins and passes him the notebook and pen. Just before he starts writing, he and Clyde make eye contact and Craig raises his eyebrows just a little. Clyde feels his cheeks get hot and takes another sip of Coke, trying to use the can to hide his face._

_When Craig has his question written down, he passes the notebook to Tweek, and it makes its way around the group. Token had even managed the energy to scrawl something, but whether it's legible or not, Clyde has no idea. When all the papers have been collected, Kenny mixes them around with his hand._

_"So...how should we do this?" Token has sat up a bit, and yawns._

_"Clyde has to go first!" Kenny chirps, holding the hat out. "It's his birthday!"_

_Clyde rolls his eyes, but leans forward to set his can of Coke down. "S'not anymore, technically," he says, as he dips his hand into the papers. He remembers the last time he touched this particular hat and blushes again. Pulling out a piece of paper, he sits back, unfolds it, and reads, "How much have you had to drink tonight?" He makes a face. "Does Coke count?"_

_Kenny shakes his head. "You really have to branch out, Clyde," he says. "I had a whole bottle of vodka and I'm fine!" He's obviously not fine, as his words come out slurred and the word 'fine' sounds like it has eighteen extra letters. "Plus Wendy had_ way _more than I did!"_

_Stan glances down at his girlfriend, who has her eyes closed now, but every so often she still erupts in a random giggle fit. "Yeah," he says, smiling down at her. "That's my girl." He holds up a hand and counts to himself on his fingers. "I think I had three beers and a shot of tequila?"_

_"Whiskey," Christophe says from behind Kenny, who twists around to nod approvingly. Kyle makes a face at his boyfriend and says, "I had like two screwdrivers or something."_

_Token shrugs and says sleepily, "Who knows, it was all fucking delicious though."_

_Kenny looks at Cartman. "What about you, Douchebag? Did you even drink?"_

_Cartman glares at him. "I'm not answering this question, it's retarded."_

_Kenny rolls his eyes, turning to the other couch. "Craig, Tweek?"_

_"Agh!" Tweek squeaks at being addressed directly. "I put - ghh! - Bailey's in my coffee!"_

_Craig shakes his head. "I'm driving."_

_"You guys," Kenny whines, clearly disappointed in who he has chosen to be friends with. Sighing, he holds up the hat. "Who wants to go now?"_

_"I'll go." Kyle lifts his arm and Kenny lowers the hat so he can grab a piece of paper. "Would you make out with the person on your left?"_

_Everyone turns to their left to verify who exactly that person is, and Kyle shakes his head at Stan. "Wendy might kill me."_

_Stan nods with a grin. "She'd definitely light you on fire or something." He gestures to his girlfriend, who seems as if she's finally fallen asleep for good. "I don't think I have to answer, but I can speak for her to say not a chance."_

_Cartman scoffs. "Jealous much?" He crosses his arms. "What kind of faggy question is that anyway? This whole thing is stupid."_

_Clyde makes a face at Token and says, "No offense, but uh, no thanks."_

_Token yawns again. "Your loss," he says with a shrug. "Sorry, though, Tweek, I'm gonna have to say no."_

_Tweek is gulping his coffee, the giant mug blocking most of the view of his face. He twitches something that could possibly have been a shrug, or a shake of his head. On the other end of the couch, Craig shares a look with Christophe on the floor, and the two of them simultaneously emit some variation of, "Eh." Craig shoots Clyde another quick glance and Clyde can't help but grin._

_Kenny, in the middle, looks around the circle thoughtfully. Using one hand to push against the coffee table to slide himself around in a circle, he points at each person, starting with Stan. "Totally, never, yup, yup, get me drunk on caffeine and we'll talk, duh,_ oui _, and hell fucking yes." With a little drunken giggle, he sighs, "I love being in the middle." He holds out the hat again, and Craig leans forward to grab a piece of paper._

_When he opens it, he immediately rolls his eyes. "This was your question, wasn't it?" he says to Kenny, who blinks innocently at him. Craig sighs, and reads the question, throwing the paper back at Kenny as he does. "What would you do if I died?"_

Die _. The first thought that comes to Clyde's mind surprises him; but before he can really think about it, before anybody else can even start to answer the question, Tweek lets out a, "Nrgh!" Clyde looks at him just in time to see the coffee mug he'd been holding fly up into the air, its contents spilling all over Tweek and the couch, before landing with a thud on the carpet at Token's feet._

_"Jesus!" Tweek yelps, jumping up and staring down, horrified, at the coffee stain spreading over his clothes. He hops from foot to foot, shaking so much it's a wonder he can keep his balance. "Agh! Sorry, T – Token!"_

_"Oh, whatever," Token says, too tired to care. "We had to get our stuff cleaned anyway."_

_Tweek leans over to pick up the mug, but his trembling hands can't quite grasp the handle. He tries three times before Craig slides across the couch, reaches down and grabs it, setting it down on the coffee table beside Kenny. He stands up and taps Tweek on the shoulder, who jumps a foot in the air at the touch. He stares, wide-eyed, and mutters something incomprehensible._

_"Come on," Craig says, an amused smirk on his face. "I can drive you home if you want to change."_

_"Ghh!" Tweek nods, and starts stumbling his way over to the stairs. Craig glances around the circle. "Anyone else need a ride?" His gaze lands on Clyde and he raises his eyebrows, just slightly._

_Clyde clears his throat, his heart beating wildly – he knows that look. "Yeah," he says, using the arm of the couch as leverage to push himself to his feet. "I should probably get going."_

_"You're not staying?" Token murmurs the question from where he's slid down on the couch. His eyes are closed and Clyde knows his best friend well enough to know he's not even listening anymore. Still, he does his best to come up with a natural, casual answer._

_"Nah, I gotta work tomorrow," he says, which isn't a lie. Granted, he doesn't have to start work until two in the afternoon, but that part isn't important. As expected, Token doesn't respond. Clyde offers everyone else a wave goodbye, and then he and Craig follow Tweek to the basement stairs. Craig's fingers brush his own lightly on the way over, and Clyde smiles to himself, knowing that had been on purpose._

_Outside, it's raining, and Clyde sighs grumpily at the sky, ducking as if that will stop the raindrops from splashing down on him. Craig smirks at him as they and Tweek walk down the driveway to Craig's car. "Seriously?" He holds out his arms and looks up at the falling water. Having left his hat behind, his black hair is already dripping, though they've only been outside for ten seconds. "A little rain's not going to kill you, Clyde."_

_"Rrrgh!" Tweek shivers, pulling at his shirt to inspect what the water is doing to the coffee stain._

_Clyde pulls on the locked door of the car impatiently. "It's wet," he says, like that explains everything. Craig shakes his head, pulling out his keys and hitting the electronic unlock button._

_Clyde hops in the backseat, knowing that Tweek needs to sit in the front so he can see everything going on. He clicks his seatbelt into place and watches out the window as Craig pulls away from the curb. He's mentally doing the math to figure out how long it'll take to drive to Tweek's house – how long until he'll be alone with Craig and he can stop pretending that something is nothing._

_After a few minutes of driving, they pull up to a red light and Craig hits the brakes, frowning down at the dashboard controls. He pushes a button, then looks at the windshield, covered in raindrops. Nothing happens. "Fuck," he mutters irritably, taking both hands off the wheel to push his hair back. He jabs the button again, and again nothing happens. He sighs and reaches down to undo his seatbelt._

_Tweek whips his head around in horror. "What are you doing?!" His frantic tone causes all his words to run together._

_"Relax," Craig says, opening his car door. "The wipers are stuck, I'm just gonna fix 'em." Outside, he leans across the hood of the car and lifts the windshield wipers, brushing aside a few wet leaves that had gotten stuck underneath them. Returning to the drivers' seat, he pushes the button again and the wipers spring to life. The light changes to green and he pulls the car forward. "See?" he says, smiling over at Tweek. "Nothing—"_

_The SUV comes out of nowhere, flying through the intersection at speeds much too high for a residential area. Clyde doesn't have time to do anything other than utter an, "Uh!", and close his eyes instinctively; and then the sound of screeching tires, breaking glass, and the sickening crunch of metal on metal fills his ears. He is thrown forward at the impact, but his seat belt has locked in place and jerks him backwards again. Pain explodes across the left side of his torso and he is overcome by dizziness. Tweek lets out a high-pitched wail from the front seat. Craig doesn't say anything._

_Because Craig Tucker is dead._

* * *

Clyde is shaken back to reality by an urgent churning in his stomach, this time one he can't suppress. Holding a hand to his mouth, he springs up off the couch and rushes across the basement to the bathroom, ignoring the few voices behind him asking him if he's all right. He has just enough time to kick the bathroom door closed behind him before vomiting into the sink. He turns on the tap full blast and then grasps the counter tightly with both hands, trying to steady his shaky legs. His side twinges with pain again.

He had been exceptionally lucky, his doctor had said to him, to leave that accident with only a couple of fractured ribs. Tweek's arm had been broken, and he had been the one to watch as the SUV smashed right into the drivers' side door, sending Craig - who hadn't had his seatbelt buckled - straight through the windshield. Clyde had been told that he had likely been dead instantly. Like that was supposed to make things better. Okay, he hadn't suffered, but he was still _dead_.

Clyde gags again, and leans forward. The second time completely empties his stomach. His throat burning, he rinses out the sink and splashes some water on his face. Three weeks. It's been three weeks since his birthday party, three weeks since the accident, three weeks that he's had to relive it over and over and over in his mind. And now he's here, in the basement, just like that night three weeks ago, so everyone can be together for Tweek, like Tweek is the only person who is affected by the whole thing. Frustrated, angry, miserable tears spill down Clyde's cheeks and he again wants to scream, at his reflection in the mirror, at everyone in the basement, at the entire world for taking Craig away from him.

With shaking hands, he grabs the towel from the rack and wipes his face. Deciding that he really just cannot be here right now, he cracks open the bathroom door. Nobody on the couches across the room even looks up. He slips out of the bathroom noiselessly and makes his way up the stairs. Jamming his feet into his soaking wet shoes, he suddenly remembers his jacket is still in the dryer, but realizes that he honestly just doesn't care anymore. Pushing open Token's front door, he goes out, into the rain.

The storm is still raging, and by the time he reaches the end of the driveway, Clyde is soaking wet again. He wraps his arms around himself and turns right as a shock of lightning blasts across the sky. The wind whips across his face and he keeps his head down as he trudges along the sidewalk, his shoes making an awful squelching sound against the ground. He wonders briefly if anyone has even noticed he's gone, or if they're all still too focused on Tweek to really care.

He walks without a destination in mind, barely even noticing what's around him. It isn't until he stumbles on the edge of a curb, and a car horn blares loudly that he looks up, and when he does his breath catches in his throat. He's standing on the edge of a crosswalk, at the intersection where his happiness had been destroyed. Numb, Clyde backs up a step or two, just staring at the spot on the road where Craig's car had been three weeks ago, and then he just crumples. He sinks to the ground in a heap and starts sobbing, letting loose all the emotion he's spent the entire day trying to control. It's too much, all of it. The secret relationship, the accident, his fractured ribs, Tweek's broken arm, _Craig_...

And knowing that none of it would have happened if he'd fought harder against the idea of a birthday party in the first place.

"I can't do this." He speaks out loud, his voice ragged. "I can't _fucking_ do this." He turns his face to the sky and says, pleadingly, "What am I supposed to do?"

As if in answer, thunder blasts overhead, as sharp as a gunshot. Clyde tilts his head, and listens. A vague memory is taking shape in his mind, something from elementary school...and chili? He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, concentrating on the sliver of recollection. Cartman's voice echoes in his head. _"What they didn't tell you was that Denkins is a crazy redneck who shoots trespassers on sight."_

Tears still streaming down his cheeks, Clyde opens his eyes again and smiles up at the sky, his first smile in weeks. "Thank you," he says quietly, unsteadily rising to his feet. He turns back in the direction he came, back towards Token's house. The Denkins ranch is just a little bit past the Black's house; he can get there in about twenty minutes.

It's funny, the things you remember.


End file.
